


family traditions

by rectifyinflux



Series: Two Pieces [9]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grandma May loves her grandkids, it's skyeward if you squint, prom/dance thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:38:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rectifyinflux/pseuds/rectifyinflux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, when you said you were buying a dress, I was expecting a dress. Not this –”<br/>“Underwear is not acceptable in public. Phillip, why would let her out without clothes?”<br/>“It’s a dress, guys!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	family traditions

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a long time ago but it got stowed away in some folder under some obscure name.

“Is it bright enough? Or do you think I should use flash?” Coulson asks.

Ward makes a non-committal sound from his armchair, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. But he was _not_ sulking. Or brooding. It’s just his default mood.

Coulson’s messing with the room’s lights now, testing the flash before dismissing it and adjusting the dimmer. He repeats it a few times, muttering to himself and occasionally asking for Ward’s opinion.

He jumps from his seat the moment the doorbell rings. Ward schools his features before opening the door. “May?”

May pushes past him, heading straight into the living room. “Sorry about this, Phil.”

"Hey Gram." Lindo May blinks up at him, grabbing his jaw in her hand forcing him to bend forwards. She tilts his face this way and that.

“You shouldn’t frown so much.” She smiles fondly, smoothing his forehead. “Or your handsome face will look like mine. All wrinkled like a prune.”

“What are you talking about, Gram? You don’t look a day above 30.”

“Such a charmer.” She pinches his cheek as Ward links their arms. “How are your classes? Are you doing well?”

“I’m training with Agent Barton now.”

“Barton?” She turns to Coulson. “Your other stray?”

“Mom.” May rolls her eyes. “Leave him alone.”

“I hear from Maria that you have the highest scores –”

“Since Romanoff.” Coulson says.

“Keep working hard. And stay out of trouble.”

“Me? Trouble? I think you’re confusing me with Skye.”

“Hey! I heard that. Gram!” Skye practically shoves Ward to the side. “I missed you. Did you come just to see me off?”

“I was in town and thought I would visit.”

“She flew here.” May stage-whispers to Coulson.

“What are you wearing?!”

“AC! Are you kidding me? You said I could pick whatever.”

“Well, when you said you were buying a dress, I was expecting a dress. Not this –”

“Underwear is not acceptable in public. Phillip, why would let her out without clothes?”

“It’s a dress, guys!”

She walks around Skye. “This is not a dress. There’s not enough fabric.”

“I’m with Lindo on this.” Coulson says. “You’re not leaving the house in that.”

“Ward?” He shakes his head. “Mom, help. Please.”

May hands over a sleek black velvet box.

“It’s much better.” Lindo assures, “Go on. Open it.” There’s a deep purple cheongsam with gold accents depicting dragons and phoenixes.

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t cuss.”

“Sorry, Gram.”

“It’s tradition and this one is yours. We were saving it for a special event.” May says softly. “Now seemed like the right time.”

“I – I have to change. AC, stall.”

“I told you this would happen. You don’t need to thank me.”

“I was – thank you.”

“I said no need.”

Coulson grins at the exasperated look on May's face as she follows Skye upstairs. “Thank you, Lindo.”

*

Skye’s date is 3 minutes late, prompting another rant from Lindo (“What kind of man comes late? Gentlemen are never late. Remember that, Grant.”). She ushers him into the living room where Coulson continues to deliberate over the best setting (“Twilight, soft skin or soft snap? Maybe just automatic,”) as Ward assembles his sniper rifle, adding generic comments and nods at appropriate intervals.

“Sit down.”

“You are taking my granddaughter –”

“Uh – yeah. I’m Skye’s date.” The guy squirms slightly in his seat, adjusting his tie.

Ward smirks. Leave it to Grandma May to scare the crap out of anyone. “What do you do?”

“I’m a student. Honor roll. I play a bit of baseball.”

“Hmm. And what do you want with my granddaughter?”

“I –” There’s a loud click as Ward slides in the magazine, grinning as he sees him tug on his collar. “Uh – we’re just friends. Just friends.”

“Greg!”

The barrel slips from his fingers when his eyes land on Skye. Gram was right. This dress did look better. And the pageant queen makeup was gone, it was natural looking. She looked elegant, dignified and a classic kind of beautiful. Ward turns back to his rifle as she moves to her date.

“Sorry about the interrogation.”

“It’s okay.” Her date laughs nervously. “You look great. Ready to go?”

“Pictures first!”

Skye wears the brightest smile as she stands between two generations of May women, kisses Coulson’s cheek when May takes the camera and there are a few posed pictures of her and her date.

“Dad, enough.”

“One more.” Coulson says. “Grant!”

“No.”

“Grant, it’s a special night for Skye.”

He groans, dragging his feet to her side. Skye slips an arm around his waist. “C’mon, Robot, you heard Gram. It’s a special night. Now turn that line into a smile!”

He makes a face at her. Skye pokes at his mouth with her finger, pushing it up before facing the camera.

Coulson goes over the usual hurt-my-daughter-and-I-make-your-life-hell speech with May to his left, her face stern, murderous and simultaneously expressionless. Skye turns to Ward, voice lowered, “Do I look alright?”

“Beautiful.” He replies.

Skye mock-gasps, “Was that a compliment?”

“A comment.”

“A nice one.”

“An honest one.” Ward says, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. "If he tries anything, you tell me, okay? And –”

"You'll break his arm off?" Skye finishes, hugging him. "I know, Ward. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

(Neither notice as Lindo snaps a photo.)


End file.
